


Far

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Masturbation, No Dialogue, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: When Luna can’t sleep, she thinks of her prince.





	Far

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Lunafreya masturbating” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=192073#cmt192073).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s one of those nights where it’s difficult to sleep, though her quarters are dark, quiet, and deceptively peaceful. Most of her curtains are drawn over the windows, though the balcony’s cracked just a sliver open—just enough to let in the faint light of the stars. Lunafreya prefers that to _total_ darkness. She shuts her eyes and tries to dream, but her mind remains troublingly restless.

When she opens up again, her gaze falls to the notebook on her nightstand. She usually hides it better than that, but no one’s come to see her in weeks, and few dare to enter without knocking, and none would at night—not even Ravus. Nor would they know what it was if they were to see it. Just looking at it makes her wonder: is Noctis also lying awake beneath the stars?

No, she immediately thinks, of course not. He’ll be fast asleep by now. And he’s a sound sleeper at that. It makes her smile to think of it, to picture him, not the boy she knew as a child, but the _man_ that he’s become, that occasionally comes to her in clips on the television or smuggled photographs clasped between the pages of their notebook. The more she thinks of it, the more her heart swells, until she’s shifting close enough to reach out and capture the white-edged picture currently poking out over the book’s smooth edge.

The latest photograph is one of Noctis awkwardly smiling, standing before his father’s car in simple black fatigues. His dark hair is shining in the midday sun, his well-toned body leaning almost casually against the hood. She wants to reach out and brush bangs his away from his bright eyes. On the wedding day, she thinks she’ll have that same instinct.

But that thought makes her fidget. There’s always a danger to this: to thinking of _Noctis_ , not as her childhood friend or future king, but as the man she’s going to marry. It’s even more perilous at night. The starlight’s just enough to see Noctis’ dazzling beauty. None of the men Lunafreya sees in person ever come close. And he’s promised to _her_. Someday, she hopes, it will be just the _two of them_ , and he’ll carry her over the threshold to set her down on a bed not so different than this one.

Lunafreya bites her bottom lip. Her vision blurs away from the photograph as she pictures Noctis in something a tad more formal—a suit, crisp and black, befitting of their wedding day, but a little too stuffy for their wedding night. She’d have the honour of stripping it off, piece by piece—his jacket, his tie, the buttons of his shirt—and she’d find out just how _strong_ her man’s become.

She doesn’t know what Noctis looks like bare. But imagining it makes her lashes heavy, makes one hand drop beneath the blankets. It smoothes down her body as she eyes his pretty face—his captivating eyes, his slightly parted lips. She doesn’t even know what it’s like to kiss him. But she knows she’ll love it. There’s no doubt of that. She gathers the hem of her thin nightgown and slowly scrunches it up, until she can reach easily below. Her hand slips between her legs, cupping tightly, her thumb pressing in against her panties. It makes her breath hitch, her lashes flutter. She pictures Noctis stripping _her_ and telling her how beautiful she is, how badly he’s always wanted her.

All the notes he’s written in the notebook are loving. Some are light, some are fond, some are almost heartbreakingly vulnerable. But she can feel that he wants this too. She grinds the heel of her palm against her folds and turns her face into the pillow, stifling her moan. She pretends it’s _his_ hand touching her, even though hers is much too small and delicate for that.

By the time she slides inside her panties, she’s already wet. She can feel it dribbling out as she runs her trim fingers along her slit, thumb rolling about the little nub at the top. She rubs herself for a while as her mind rolls over the highlights of the wedding night—his warm mouth on her lips, her throat, her chest. Her free hand comes to knead her breasts. He would appreciate them, she thinks—he hasn’t been with anyone else, she knows—surely he’ll be surprised and glad to find her so soft and pliant beneath his loving hands. When she thrusts the first finger inside her opening, she has to bite her lip to stifle her cry.

A few quick thrusts in and out, and Lunafreya has to turn her face into the pillow. She dampens it with her panting breath and muffled cries. It isn’t even so much the ministrations as the torrid thoughts inside her mind. The images. The _hopes_. She fits two fingers inside her channel and thinks of his cock, long and hard, so very eager to come inside her body. 

In a fit of pent-up lust, Lunafreya shamelessly humps her own hand and whimpers his name against the pillowcase. Though this is a rare bout of weakness for her, she’s spent too long alone to _not_ know how to play with herself. She knows exactly what her body wants. Exactly what she likes, what she craves. She’ll teach it all to him. She fucks herself on just her fingers and thoughts of her beloved prince, until it’s all too much, and she’s screaming into the depths of her pillow. Her juices well up and squelch around her fingers, her channel facing spasms and her hips shuddering as she comes. For that blissful moment, she’s burning up and weightless, boneless, lost high above her body in a dizzy whirl of sheer _pleasure_. Everything is wonderful.

And then she’s slowly coming down, cooling off and breathing hard, hips crawling to a halt. Her fingers pause, then withdraw. She wipes them off on her thigh and straightens out her nightgown. 

Noctis’ picture, untouched and unsullied, is still there when she opens her eyes. She stares at it as the orgasm dissipates and the afterglow sets in.

Then she tucks it carefully beneath her pillow. She still thinks of him as she shuts her eyes again, but now it’s of him petting her hair, holding her hand, and murmuring sweet promises. She knows she’ll see him again. She allows herself to smile, and better dreams finally come to take all her troubles away.


End file.
